How many people could say that they'd had a squirming, horny Rufus Shinra on their lap, almost demanding sex? Or...no, there wasn't any 'almost' about it. The memory of it, the feel of his weight in Reeve's lap, the taste of ouzo on his tongue... I thought being drunk was supposed to affect your ability to get hard. Damn. And he was really, really not going to get any sleep if he let himself dwell on it. He closed his bedroom door quietly - not that he really thought Rufus was conscious enough to notice - and sank down onto his couch, running his hand through his hair.

"Goddamn," he breathed, leaning back into the cushions, his erection almost painfully hard. "I swear I'd sell my conscience to the highest bidder right now." A golden opportunity - for how often, /really/, would Rufus be without his Turks, away from his base of power, a night of no witnesses, not even a chance for anything they chose to do reaching the office gossips later on? "Goddamn."

Why the hell did you have to be drunk, damnit? Why the hell couldn't you have stuck to water?

He'd felt...so, so good. Rufus Shinra was a small man, but firm, hard all over - lean, firm muscle everywhere. And it had been straddling Reeve's waist, the press of his erection into Reeve's stomach - and I am definitely not going to get any sleep if I don't get this out of my mind. Reeve all but launched himself off the couch, shedding clothes determinedly as he headed for the bathroom. A hot shower, some liquid soap...

He ran out of hot water about half an hour before he'd run out of pent-up desire, and had to make a note to get more liquid soap the next time he was shopping, but his head was more or less clear as he snagged the spare pillow and blanket from the closet and stretched out on his couch.

He did want Rufus. Very much. Enough that he had to strictly avoid thinking about his bedroom, at all, because it probably wouldn't be any effort at all to get Rufus willing. He was right there, to touch and caress and - no, no, definitely not thinking about that. Definitely not. No, wanting Rufus wasn't the issue.

Loving him was.

Rufus was playing a dangerous and quite possibly deadly game - the stakes might well include the entire planet. Palmer, Tseng, Cid, the entire sour mess at the Gold Saucer...the losses weren't negligible and they still had no real idea what the hell Hojo was doing, what was going /on/...

Am I just a coward? Reeve mused tiredly, fingercombing wet strands from his forehead. Is that all it is? Am I just afraid to think, to act, on a truly global scale? Shin-Ra owned the planet. It wasn't hard to consider that yes, anything affecting Shin-Ra would affect the whole planet. And Rufus admitted to not trusting most of his staff.

And me/? Was he just going to have to resign himself to continual tests of his loyalty? /Just please, God, don't let him get drunk and crawl into my lap again. I've got a conscience but I'm no saint. And Tseng - no love lost, none at all, but ....damn. The man had been obeying Rufus' orders, blindly, and while he might survive his encounter with Sephiroth, there were no guarantees. He reached for his earpiece - and then the glasses that plugged into it, that let him see the visuals as well.

"Cait?" he asked quietly.

"Reeve!" came the cat's relieved squeak. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear from you. How's Tseng?"

"I don't know," Reeve admitted. "I've had kind of a long night myself. I promise I'll let you know when I find out, okay?"

"Oh," answered Cait, somewhat dejected. "What can I do for you?"

"Fill me in," said Reeve. "I've got time now - show me what's been happening."

He stretched out on his couch, pulling up the blanket, as Cait Sith replayed events as it had seen them. A firsthand view of Tseng's injuries did much to quell all lingering lust, as did Cait's additional data - exactly how much blood had been lost, spilled on the floor, Tseng's physical condition, measured with robotic precision, the sound in his voice that only extreme pain could put there.

And then further - Aerith's voices, and the Temple itself, with its weird Escher-like design and the odd ..../Bugenhagen/, he blinked. /Those...Ancients, they have to be...they're like Bugenhagen/. He'd met the old sage once, long ago - he'd worked for Shin-Ra for a while, and Reeve had studied with him as well. Traps and wells of knowledge, "The whole place is a test...." he mused aloud.

"Yeah, Cloud thinks so too," said Cait. "This clock thing is really weird - and something's damaged this place, too, because some of the rooms end in rockfalls."

"I'll want a full report," said Reeve, taking off the video glasses. "Be careful."

"I will," said Cait.

He stared at the ceiling for a long while. So much is going on. Why didn't Sephiroth take the Keystone? He didn't want the Turks in the temple - but why let Avalanche in? Why make sure they were first?

Too many pieces and no way to tell how they fit together. And Rufus..../damn. I went almost an hour without thinking about that/. He turned onto his side, getting comfortable, and turned out the light. He was fairly sure his alarm clock would have a hung-over Rufus playing the role of a human wake-up-call soon enough.

If only you'd been sober/, he sighed to himself. /But maybe it's just as well. Had Rufus been sober, there would have been no reason not to do as they both wanted - well, assuming Rufus would be quite that forward when sober. And things still didn't feel right. There was so much going on. It can't always be this hectic. I hope.

Was he using events as a reason to push Rufus away? Or maybe I just need to get some sleep. If I'm going through most of a bottle of liquid soap to take the edge off, this is not a crush. It's just not the time, either. There's a right way to go about things - particularly when the object of one's desires is pretty much the most eligible human being on the face of the planet.

As he drifted off - finally - he found himself wondering what the look on Rufus' face would be if anyone ever put flowers on his desk. /Probably bitch about allergies./..

He would have sworn he'd only just closed his eyes when he heard - through his bedroom door - his alarm going off. Opening bleary eyes, he stifled a chuckle at a thump - /that would be Rufus, hung over, attempting to Shut The Damn Thing Off and getting stuck in the sheets/. Scrubbing his face with one hand, he pulled the blanket off himself with the other, and adjusted his robe around himself. He'd need his materia bracer; he walked over to his desk to retrieve it. He was just snapping it on when Rufus - looking a lot more like death warmed over on a hot plate than any form of sexy - wobbled out of the room. The alarm was still going, which probably accounted for the snarling.

"Goddamn noise and -"

"Hold still," Reeve advised quietly, snagging Rufus by the shoulder. Esuna was a quick spell to cast, and Rufus' reaction to the sudden absence of pain was almost to fall over. Reeve lowered him onto the couch. "Better?" he asked, adding a low level cure spell.

Rufus looked up at him, apparently momentarily distracted by the fact that the robe was all Reeve had on. Reeve, for his part, was adamantly refusing to dwell on Rufus' 100% Cotton Sheet ensemble. "Why did nothing happen?" he demanded.

Reeve pointed. "In there, on the chair. You probably went right past them trying to turn the alarm off. Easier to wear them back to your place, wherever it is, if they're fairly clean."

This time the look Rufus gave him said clearly that he wasn't sure if Reeve was a uniquely creative liar, or if he was just from another planet altogether. "...Right." He reached up, fingers brushing Reeve's beard. "And we're doing nothing now because....?"

..../Damn./ So much for liquid soap. And yet some part of his actual brain must still have blood going to it, because he answered, "Tseng's in the hospital, if he's still alive. Avalanche is in the Temple of Ancients. And if you don't get home, showered, dressed, and back to the office as fast as you can, we're going to find out the hard way why that's exactly what Sephiroth wants."

"Damn," Rufus swore quietly, without looking away from Reeve's eyes. There was a closed-off look to Rufus' expression that hurt to see.

Reeve did the only thing he could think of to do; he leaned down, and kissed. Slowly, deeply, thoroughly, putting into it everything there hadn't been time for in the hospital or all the chaotic days since, and what would have been missed in the ouzo fog. "Next time, go for water," he said softly as he pulled away. "I don't want everything I'd love to do with you to be erased by a hangover the next morning."

He wasn't sure if it had gotten through; Rufus wasn't exactly open, but the shut down expression had been replaced by confusion. "How come I can never figure you out?" he demanded, and then sighed. "Fine." Gathering the sheet around himself, he nudged Reeve out of the way and disappeared back into the bedroom, re-emerging a few minutes later fully clothed - and the alarm was now shut off.

He didn't leave immediately, though. Instead he turned and - very quickly - caught hold of Reeve, opening the robe to take a good up-and-down sweep.

Reeve stared at him. "...Do I stick a price tag on my thigh, or what?" he asked, completely lost.

Rufus grinned at him. "You undressed me, and didn't do anything. I just wanted to see if I could pass the same test."

"....Congratulations?" Reeve offered, wondering if they were in fact in order, or if he was being mocked.

Rufus tugged him down and kissed him. "If you'd been on my lap you wouldn't be walking straight for a /week/," he promised, and let go. "See you at the office, Saint Tuesti."

I deserved that, Reeve sighed as Rufus left. He retreated to his bedroom to - finally - get dressed. I really need to find out where I got this case of conscience from. Maybe there's a cure...